Brenda

 Brenda

All the way to a whole new piece of everythings. Brenda. This was now the end of the women from school and college and a whole new work on the television station in my town, Windsor, a town a fraction of Detroit in America. But still close to the big city as we worked close to the big monster city and it's huge ness. Five million. Windsor was a spot across the river. And I worked there and Detroit and go to both cities. But then it came to Brenda it was different. Brenda worked at the TV station as well as I did. This was over high school boys and girls. 

She lived in Toronto and moved to Windsor where I lived. And we became friends. And yes, we became friends. Very good friends. We took a holiday with nobody knew. While we had a two week holiday on an east coast trip as what we went to Quebec and Boston and Cape Cod and New York and all the way back. We camped in upstate New York and met family with two mutes with a 6-year old family. It was a beautiful camp and the boy translate all the language. We got married after our trip and that was it.

We now worked and married at the TV station and tried to keep it quit because the company might not like two people to work together. And our biggest event was our trip to the Canadian Rockies where we took art programs all summer in the beautiful place. 

But we never made it together with each other's home. And that was that. And we never really saw each other for a lot of years and didn't think it would happen again. But one day a unknown emailed me on line on Facebook with one short word. It says only this "Are you my mother's ex".

Well, it turns out quite interesting, in fact, really quite interesting and why will they both will know. The simple part is that her mom's first marriage. And know her mom's past and now future will come to complete it all. "Mom" finds this all can be real and is in real life. Mom's second. And that was me. It started with both we married to someone else and finally back to me.

It sounds so crazy, but it is there. And we talked for days and years and finally met each other again, in Canada where she still lives with her daughter. And, being a screenwriter, it begs for a real movie, so I wrote a screenplay and am trying to get it made

How's that? Real.

 

Ingrid

Blond, swedish angel, car hop, first girl to break my heart. Not that I did. My girls and I slowly seemed to take it bad for a day and then seem to be ok. Sorta! First night, at a party, we circle each other, talk a little, I can't take my eyes off her, but manage to go home with a raven-haired girl. Two weeks later, party at her Ingrid's , she asked a friend to make sure I'm there, like teenagers, after all we are teens. I go, she's cool, mostly ignores him, then she starts a fire in the backyard and all of us hang out, and I end uup in those mysterious ways, beside her, and she has a blanket in the cool night and we end up cozy under it as the fire dies and we don't even know that everyone else is gone because we can only see each other and don't need anything else. Ingrid was the makeout queen, holding each other. I had no car at that time so I and and my friend Perry and his girl and his car and Ingrid and I. Sometimes I get my dad's car for an evening and it was everything for us. But it changed, Ingrid found someone at the carhop job. It breaks my heart, I never really came back from that time. Even after, when she sees me and a high school dance I didn't want to see her again. But eventually she wanted to see me again and she did and but it didn't work like it did before. Perry and his girl drive us to the park but it wasn't good. I saw her a few years after graduation high school. She was hanging around with the Greasers, tough guys  I was not.

Her

One time though, when I wasn't with Ingrid, and I met a girl at the House Of Pizza, where teens like us would hang around inside, listen to rock and roll. She was a dark haired who bewitched me in a sense, it wasn't my fault, haunted, can't remember her name. We danced from a radio and held each other. The place was brick and dark and nobody around and smelling of old people and dark walls and I began to not like it. Maybe even scared more. Maybe like being scared that I would lose my sole being a Catholic boy. It was serious in the way enough to try it. And I wasn't. I didn't want to show that, but she was just something that was. I stayed for a while and. I remember that from the movie Citizen Kane. I saw that movie a few weeks ago. The smell of old wood and dark walls and I didn't like it and didn't want to go in because I was scared, scared that that I'd lose my soul. It was serious with her, not just a guy and a girl and some fooling around. I never saw her again and wondered where she was. I often remember her and something that in that dark old house. And I wondered to think about her, mysterious and that house and what could I have known.

Carmen

 For those who don't know where I came from the wild west of of Canada, well, not really wild west. Mostly wheat fields rising up to the small town that I grew up to 12 years and settled across the river. The The Detroit River. Yeah, a small city across to Detroit with around in the millions. And I had relatives also. You'll see Dey/twa while my city was Windsor, a small city of factory workers. I went to a American college about twenty miles from Canada, crossing the river two ways, massive bridge and the closest under the river also called The Detroit River. Two counties.

I would drive back to Canada by tunnel. My U.S. school was Henry Ford College. It was Orville Hubburd's white home and mayor since 1946 and he doesn't like blacks and they say that if the Russians ever drop a bomb on Dearborn, it will have to be painted white because otherwise it'll never get in. I met Carmen in a psyc class. Carmen is cool to me, she's one of those girls cool to me. She's one of those girls who flirt a little, I take up, she's one of those girls who flirt a little who have and I ask her out. We later meet to a "supper club" like they do here in the "states" and we have two drinks, we with Whisky Sours that Crys showed me later how to drink will liked Sunrises. "More on Crys". After two hours of talking about stopping the war and school we dance and we hold each other with the desperation  of cold war and generally make a spectical in front of the shorthairs. It was a little bit of our war world across the ocean. 

Lucy

Lovely little Lucy, dark skin Italian girl with gentle features and delicate body. We talked. she liked me and I still love her. Her parents couldn't speak English and nuns at school told her see was hemmed  her skirt to her knees. One night we were walking home and we cut across a cemetary and we sat on an old one and talked and talked until it was midnight until she's crying, and saying she's how she'd beginning to believe the nuns are right. I tell her they're wrong. That she was as real as any other girl who likes a boy and she holds me and I. She says she likes me and I tell her the nuns don't know what they think about anyone and she kisses me and I feel her pain. Then she looks at me with those great doe eyes and lipsticked lips and she kisses me.and I feel through it lips and I just hold her. I learned later that she married an Italian. I never saw her again but someone said she left him.

I miss her even now, think about her. I miss them all.

Bobby

Okay, I'm back, well actual having some problems from that horrible thing that calls itself story teller. Well, let's go back in '66" - '69" with me and Sidi, the "ramblin'n' gamb'lin man" go to the "east side" where he lives, all black. And I'm there with him in a house along with a Black Panther who hates my guts for being white, and two girls, one of which has the greatest skin I ever seen, smooth and dark, like a black pearl. And she likes me, and I go on like some idiot from Canada, which I guess I am. At least I'm not like the draft     doggers up in Toronto who get laid by girls feeling sorry for them. But things get tense, and I know I should get out of there so I say goodbye to Sidi, see ya in school tomorrow, and drive off in the '65 Pontiac convertible with the new roof. The one I drove down Michigan Avenue in '68 when the Tigers won the World Series and me and Ron took six hours to get home. Dozens of people jump in and out of the car until we took the tunnel back to quiet Windsor. It was a twenty mile parade blaring, everyone's happy, no matter what color.

So there I was, hanging out, remembering me in Indianapolis , in the ghetto , registering black votes for Bobby Kennedy. People are surprised to see a white guy like me there. Older people invite me for coffee and talk about how great it would be good with Bobby. Young guys are suspicious and kids just watch me do what I do, I don't feel scared, I feel good, but maybe I'm wrong. But I had their hospitality and I liked it. Now they're killing each other and I wondered that I dreamt it all. They got nothing but they got hospitality. I shook his hand in Indianapolis. It's all gone when Bobby got killed. I wouldn't do that and cried when he was gone and his brother first. Nothing came nothing.